Any Last Requests?

Jameson lost count. Did he have six Irish Car Bombs or seven? Eight? Nine? All he knew was that he was starting to feel tingly all over. Jameson basked in the sensation.

“Is it a bad thing?” he asked, trying to focus his eyes on Becca. For some reason there were suddenly two of her next to him.

“What’s a bad thing, Jamie Jameson?” She was giggling, the sound of it like bells tinkling to his ears.

“That there are two of you?”

“That just means there’s more of me for you,” she purred. She draped one arm seductively around his neck and kissed his ear. Jameson shivered.

“Hey, lovebirds, the bar’s closing in five minutes. Any last requests?” Old Bess approached them warily. Man, he’s really into her. But she looks like she’s got an ulterior motive. Wonder what that pussycat has up her sleeve…

Jameson looked in Old Bess’s general direction. “Hey, Old Bess, got any food around here? I’m hungry.”

Before Old Bess could respond, Becca grabbed his hand. “I know what you’re hungry for. Come with me…”

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